Dding!
[Are you really going?]
[Min Jiheon is a fraud! Do you really believe what he says?]
From the moment I left separately after waiting for Min Jiheon’s filming to end, the alarm kept noisily ringing in my ear. Then, as if sulking from my constant ignoring, it sent a final glitchy message—“Do as you please”—and disappeared.
“That’s a really big bouquet. Can you even carry it? Doesn’t it stand out too much?”
The place we arrived at was somewhat familiar. It was the same café where I had spoken with him after the final filming of Bring Me the Camera.
This time too, it seemed he had rented out the entire place, because it was empty.
“The manager will come pick me up later.”
“Uh-huh~.”
Looking at Min Jiheon making such a vacant remark with that cold face made me click my tongue automatically.
I had realized for some time now that he was trying to help me, but whether he truly didn’t know what was going on or just wanted to slip away from the situation, he always deflected and avoided. It was infuriating.
But this time was different.
Aside from the fact that I had now taken on the profession of “actor,” the flow of events and the basic setting were strikingly similar. Even the people appearing were. Except, of course, I couldn’t find The Dawn or my younger brother.
In other words, “Nugu Idol Tycoon” and “Nugu Actor Tycoon” were both under similar control, and what applied to me was likely the same.
And if back then I had to deal with Min Jiheon without knowing anything, now he was the one watching me with caution.
At the most secluded table, drinks were already prepared.
Seated first, Min Jiheon pushed an Americano toward me.
“Here, drink.”
He always pretended to be slow and clumsy, but he was quicker than anyone at judging and reading the atmosphere. I had only drunk sweet things throughout the shoot.
It was obvious he was doing this deliberately.
“...That nickname of yours, Min Dajeong. How the hell did you even get that?”
Min Jiheon sipped his frappuccino with an irritating air.
“Why? Don’t you think my personality’s pretty decent?”
“Bullshit...”
Clicking my tongue, I shoved the Americano aside and drank some water instead. Jiheon tilted his head.
“I’m serious. I only acted prickly because Seo Hoyun-ssi gave off a bad first impression.”
“What? Why?”
“Face reading?”
In the end, I smacked him lightly on the head.
Pouting, he switched my drink and rubbed his crown with his palm.
“Ow, ow, that hurt... Can’t even make a joke? Anyway, Mr. Seo Kindness, just like you said yourself, you’ve got these pitch-black lumps stuck to you, clinging all over. So much worse than even Lee Kangseok, who’s getting tons of hate right now.”
“So what?”
“Would you want to chat with someone carrying that around?”
...Well, true.
It wasn’t impossible to understand.
After all, the whole reason I ended up in “Nugu Idol Tycoon” seemed to be because of infamy.
Min Jiheon sipped his Americano and gave me a look.
“But that’s the curious thing. Why does it seem like it’s fading little by little?”
“Fading?”
“Mm...”
He only savored his coffee in silence. But when he saw my fist rising, he quickly spoke up.
“No, no, I mean, your face just looks a little better now... Like you’re a different person?”
I smirked.
“Hey, I don’t believe in turning over a new leaf.”
“Right back at you.”
After consecutive high-intensity shoots, fatigue was written all over Min Jiheon’s face.
There was no way he could have been truly naïve.
His abilities alone proved it, not to mention the backstory he had laid out so matter-of-factly. And his years of experience rolling around in the entertainment industry from a young age, now having risen to top star status.
Like me, he had lived off reading the room.
“I also think people don’t change so easily.”
His gaze lingered firmly on me.
“...But strangely enough, some people really do look like they believe it.”
“Get to the point.”
“...Seo Hoyun-ssi, you’ve died before, haven’t you?”
The sound of his straw slurping frappuccino echoed in the café.
With a small sigh, Min Jiheon continued.
“I always thought you were strange. Like you were walking right on the edge between life and death. But if you actually died and came back...”
And so?
I raised one eyebrow, and Jiheon leaned forward, whispering in a tiny voice.
“How did you die?”
“Got crushed.”
“...Cough, cough—sorry.”
He straightened awkwardly. I organized my thoughts for a moment, then slowly spoke.
“...There are two things I have to achieve to become whole again.”
I had nothing to lose. Whether he spoke or not, it didn’t matter. Once I returned over there, the Min Jiheon who played Min Hanjun wouldn’t exist.
“Two things to achieve?”
“The first is building recognition.”
Following the main scenario, completing quests, and becoming a first-tier idol acknowledged by everyone.
But that “first-tier” standard was vague.
Album sales? Fanbase size? Annual income?
Or was it judged by the general public? Or by the measuring stick of K-POP fans?
The system window wasn’t going to suddenly pop up one day with a “Ta-da! You’ve achieved first-tier status, congratulations!” and obediently send me back to being a PD.
So all I could do was aim for the most basic: “popularity.”
“What about the second?”
Jiheon’s eyes narrowed as if weighing something.
“The next is...”
Scenario quest.
I debated how to explain it, then decided to simplify.
“...Gaining trust from those around me.”
“Hm?”
Jiheon tilted his head with a dissatisfied expression.
“That’s it? Recognition and trust?”
I pressed my lips firmly shut to look serious, controlling the corners of my mouth that almost curled upward.
“You’re not the type to be that dull, Seo Hoyun-ssi.”
Tapping the table with his finger, Jiheon suddenly snatched my drink and gulped half of it down in seconds.
What the hell was this pig trying to do? I decided to stay quiet.
“See, I just stole your drink. Now, don’t you feel like you should demand something in return?”
“Money.”
“...Ah...”
Muttering to himself, “So he really doesn’t get it,” Jiheon pushed the Americano toward me again.
“Drink it.”
“I hate caffeine.”
“...Fine, I’ll skip the metaphor. Even if you ate my food, I wouldn’t say anything. Why?”
He pulled the Americano back to himself.
“Because it doesn’t matter. Not drinking it won’t kill me.”
“So?”
“In other words, small acts of kindness don’t require repayment.”
He brushed his pale, slender fingers against his lips, hesitating.
“But if you receive something important, a price will always follow.”
So if I was given a new life—
“You already know what comes next, don’t you?”
—it meant another life had been demanded in exchange.
Not that I hadn’t suspected it. But hearing it laid out by someone else... felt disgusting.
“Recognition and trust probably exist just to fill in the missing parts. To forcefully wear someone else’s clothes, you need plausibility to back it up.”
I recalled something Jiheon had said before.
That the reason I’d rejuvenated and become an idol, struggling to live, was because I was loved.
If someone had sacrificed their own life to save mine and create this present...
‘...Fuck.’
Exhaustion hit me like a wave. I sank deeper into my chair.
“...So you weren’t completely unaware. You don’t look that surprised.”
If I were Min Jiheon, I would have freaked out too. Wandering around with your body covered in ominous lumps, neither alive nor dead...
And all because someone else’s life had been exchanged for yours.
“Well then.”
While I was drowning in tangled thoughts, Jiheon clapped his hands.
“I think I’ve done my part. Now it’s time for Seo Hoyun-ssi to give his answer.”
“......”
So that was it. He wasn’t cooperating with me at all—he just didn’t care.
My emotions, my mood—irrelevant. All he wanted was to quickly fulfill his own curiosity and get the answer he wanted.
I looked at him silently, then lowered my gaze.
On his wrist was a beaded bracelet.
“...Jiheon-ah.”
“......”
When I dropped his surname and called his name familiarly, Jiheon’s face twisted in foreboding, and he instinctively leaned back.
But the very fact he was out here like this was already a problem.
“How about you use that ability of yours, just once—on me?”
“...W-what?”
The moment his voice cracked in surprise—
Dding!
[Excuse me???]
The system window that had been sulking and pretending to run away popped out in shock.
[Wait, hold on a second!]
The texts were broken and distorted as if in panic.
“Right now.”
I ignored it and said firmly.
There was still something I needed to verify.
Min Jiheon shrank back like a frightened small animal, throwing up walls around himself.
“...Why... no, I don’t want to.”
“It’s not that hard for you, is it?”
“Do I really have to? I’ve got a bad feeling about this...”
“Come on~, it’s nothing big.”
“I’m telling you, it hurts. For me too.”
“Nah, nah, it’ll be fine.”
“......”
Any proper office worker knows how to whine as a survival skill.
I ignored the system window’s repeated warnings, which had been flashing since earlier.
“Aren’t you curious how it’ll turn out?”
“Not curious at all.”
“I’m seriously asking you for this favor.”
That word—“favor”—made Jiheon’s eyes waver. He was soft when it came to that.
I dangled something more tempting.
“Just once. After that, I’ll give you the answer. If you want, I won’t even show up in front of you again.”
“......”
Grinding his lower lip between his teeth, Jiheon shut his eyes tight, then opened them and rolled up his sleeve.
“...You’re the type who could sell air conditioners in Antarctica...”
“Thanks for the compliment.”
Even then he hesitated several times, muttering curses under his breath.
“Tch...”
I pretended not to hear and waited. Soon, I heard the beads of his bracelet clattering against each other.
“【Fragment that fills the empty flesh.】”
At the same time, my vision rippled, and it felt like all my blood vessels were contracting.
“【This is not your rightful place...】”
But that was all.
The piercing pain that once tore through my guts, the ringing that had stabbed my ears, and the way time had slowed to a crawl like in a movie—
All those things that once made me feel like a foreign object sticking out alone...
“【I proclaim the expulsion.】”
—none of it was detected.
Even Jiheon’s hissing voice, like a snake yet muffled as though underwater, landed sharp and clear in my ears.
The system window stayed quiet, without a single ERROR.
Drip.
Then, a warm sensation trickled from my nose.
“...Huh...”
It was red. Blood.
The pressure that had been squeezing me from all sides suddenly let go.
“You’re bleeding! You’ve got a nosebleed!”
As I slowly lifted my hand to wipe under my nose, Jiheon’s face turned pale.
“Arghhh, see! I told you I didn’t want to do it...!”
He hurriedly pulled out tissues and shoved them at me.
“Ugh, I really hate the sight of blood... Hold on, Seo Hoyun-ssi, you were the one who asked for this. I tried to stop you!”
My head throbbed faintly, but otherwise my condition wasn’t bad. Jiheon looked fine too.
“You okay?”
Until now, Jiheon had only used his ability twice—
Once when we met at the Korean restaurant.
Once when we went to see Kang Ichae’s mentor performance stage.
Both times, heavy side effects had crashed down on his body.
“Should I call the manager? Want to go to the hospital?”
“Jiheon-ah, let me think for a moment. Shut up.”
But this time, all I got was a nosebleed?
‘Because this is Nugu Actor Tycoon?’
That didn’t quite fit the premise I had assumed—that both worlds would be under °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° similar rules.
So which was true? Was this situation an exception, or was my assumption correct and this was proof of it?
“What is it? Why aren’t you saying anything?”
Jiheon fidgeted nervously under my long, narrowed stare.
‘Doesn’t look like he knows anything more.’
I was done with him. Still holding a tissue to my nose, I got up. I just wanted to rest now.
“That’s enough, good work.”
“...Huh?”
As I turned to leave, Jiheon jumped up and blocked my path with wide eyes.
“Wait! I haven’t gotten my answer yet! You’re breaking your promise?”
“Jiheon-ah.”
I tossed the soaked tissue onto the table.
“Did we sign a contract or something?”
If you wanted fairness, you should’ve recorded it.
Seeing his jaw tremble with frustration, I turned my back without hesitation and left the café.
With one hand, I texted the manager. With the other, I kept pressing at my nose. The blood that hadn’t stopped yet trickled down my wrist and stained my collar.
“Hey.”
I called out to the system window in a low, steady voice.
“Get your ass out here before I really get mad.”
Dding!
[...You’re already mad though.]
Normally, it would’ve freaked out, yelling at me for asking Jiheon to do such a thing. But now it was quiet—its blue glow just trembling violently, radiating unease.
Seeing that attitude, my conviction solidified.
“Give me the play guide.”
[Seo Hoyun, the PD who’s been screwing up other people’s lives, has possessed Nugu Actor Tycoon.
No one remembers you were a PD, except for specific individuals.]
[In order to escape this world and return to where you originally lived—to become an idol again—you must clear Nugu Actor Tycoon.
If you fail to clear it, you will never be able to log out.]
[Become a Hallyu star or a ten-million-viewer actor!]
A Hallyu star, or a ten-million-viewer actor.
“Funny. Really funny.”
[...What is?]
Since rebooting the system through my unconscious not long ago, I’d been enjoying a fairly peaceful life as compensation for my suffering. No errors, no instability.
That was why I had wanted to test it through Jiheon.
If his ability no longer inflicted heavy damage, then it meant my current state was stable. Even if I couldn’t eliminate the variable of being stuck in “Nugu Actor Tycoon” instead of “Nugu Idol Tycoon.”
And in the end, look.
I’m perfectly fine.
“So... is it about time to clear this and get sent back?”
[What?]
And yet, right when everything was running smoothly, glitches had suddenly appeared and tossed me into “Nugu Actor Tycoon.” Even tethered through someone who remembered me from my PD days.
A coincidence? Too neat to be one.
I pulled my hand away from my nose and smirked.
“Hey, you bastard.”
In short, the odds were high that this wasn’t a bug.
The system had deliberately thrown me here.
“What, did you want to make me an actor that badly?”
Into this so-called wonderful world where I could earn double the points.
